Timing is Everything
by CriticsCubby
Summary: A kitchen, a timer, a tortoise, and a question.


**Timing is Everything**

**Disclaimer - **I do not own Elementary/Sherlock Holmes/Joan Watson/Clyde/any of it. I borrowed it, just for a moment, for my own entertainment.

**Summary - **A kitchen, a timer, a tortoise, and a question.

**Fic Challenge Prompts - **Sharks, Cooking, A paycheck, Mention of Detective Bell's Shoes, and the line "You are talented in many ways."

_Thanks for Forensiphile for the prompts and the challenge ^^ And, generous readers, I have no Beta so mistakes are, unfortunately, all mine._

* * *

Sherlock is staring into the pantry, as he has been for the last seven minutes and forty-five seconds. Forty-six. Watson is leaning against the kitchen counter, staring at the back of Sherlock's head, contemplating how best to bring it up.

"Watson, if you have something to say, just spit it out. _You are talented in many ways_ but your eyeballs on the backside of my head are not going to be able communicate for you." He did not turn as he spoke, he was searching for something in the pantry and he was not ready to give up his query yet.

"What are you looking for?" She opted for a simpler question than the one she was really working up the nerve to ask.

"Time." He answered quickly. "But that was not what you've been sitting there contemplating." He took his eyes off the shelves of the pantry for the briefest of moments to make eye contact with her and then he was back on the hunt.

"Since when have we kept the thyme in the pantry?" She asked as she walked over a cabinet over the counter, opened it up, and extracted a small bottled labeled 'thyme' in big, bold, lettering. She extended it in her open palm towards his still-turned back.

"That is not the time I was looking for." He turned away from the pantry and closed her hand around the bottle. "But, thank you for assisting. I do believe I know where I've left it now." He closed the pantry door and walked quickly to the mail bin on the table.

Watson reposited the bottle into the cabinet and walked over to the table, resuming her leaning position against a chair this time.

"Aha! Here it is." He proudly tossed a small timer up into the air and caught it in his still-outstretched hand. "This is the time I was looking for. Can't trust a cell-phone alarm for everything, Watson. Timing is everything; we must have reliability and this, this is the most reliable of timers."

The timer was old, Watson could tell, but seemingly well loved and still shiny on its face. Watson was still leaning against the chair when Sherlock, looking intently at the clock's face rather than her own, leaned against the chair next to hers.

"Watson, why is it that I saw your last paycheck in the pile of mail? Have you decided to move on, after all? I do not blame you, really, I'm quite surprised you have stayed as long as you have...it's just..I will miss you."

"What? No! Of course I'm not leaving, Sherlock. I mean, I would tell you if I made any sort of drastic decision like that.." She had pushed away from the chair in her surprise and was now standing quite close to his side.

"I see. I am very glad to hear that. Well, then, what is the reason for your not depositing it, then? I know you've been wanting a new pair of shoes; honestly, Watson, the way you went on and on about _Detective Bell's shoes_ the other day was almost embarrassing. If you need additional funds to purchase some, don't hesitate to ask. Anything to avoid another twenty minute conversation with Bell about the best place to find bargains." He remained glued to his spot but was now looking amused, rather than worried, and had stopped staring at his timer.

"They were nice shoes, Sherlock! And, anyway, I do not need any extra 'funds' to purchase shoes. I haven't deposited it yet because, well, I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay..financially. That's what I've been trying to ask you, Sherlock." She looked down as she spoke and returned to her leaning position.

"Why ever would you think I'm not doing okay? I mean, we aren't dining on _shark_ soup every night but I do not think we are really in want of anything here. Are we? Are you?" His brows were furrowed, he was truly concerned that she might not have everything she needs; that she might have a reason to seek shelter, to seek happiness, elsewhere. That would not do.

"I don't know, Sherlock. All that talk last week about 'saving electricity' and trying to find a supermarket that would sell you day-old salads to feed Clyde..I just got worried. I over-reacted, I'm sorry. I don't want to eat shark soup every night..or any night, for that matter. I want to stay here. I want to learn. With you. From you."

"I'm glad." He spoke at just above a whisper. She looked up, as did he, and the briefest of smiles were exchanged.

"Well, then, now that that's settled and now that I've found the timer, let us begin! Tonight, Watson, I am going to teach you to make the most delicious meal you will have ever tasted." He pushed off from the table, and walked over to the counter, depositing his trusty timer by the stove-top as he went.

"_Cooking_ lessons, Sherlock? I'm not sure this is what I signed on for.." Watson smiled and then joined him by the counter.

While the food, itself, wasn't necessarily the most delicious thing Watson had ever tasted, the meal was definitely in her top five for most enjoyable.

-fin


End file.
